


Sweat It Out

by catawhumpus (ironmermaidens)



Series: Crown AU [8]
Category: Hermitcraft
Genre: Conditioning, Gen, M/M, References to past trauma, Sickfic, cold caretaker, compulsion to obey commands, dubcon touching, hc crown au, i didn’t research it, impersonating the whumper, period inaccurate medical knowledge, probably, this was all an elaborate excuse for them to cuddle in the bathtub i'm ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironmermaidens/pseuds/catawhumpus
Summary: Shortly after arriving at the Rebellion’s Headquarters, the former consort falls ill. Hels takes it upon himself to aid in his recovery.
Relationships: Helsknight/Evil Xisuma
Series: Crown AU [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000731
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Sweat It Out

**Author's Note:**

> At time of posting, takes place between Truth or Consequences and I'll put you in your place.

Hels stands beside the bed in Xisuma's quarters and watches the King's former consort sleep. Evil X, buried up to his nose in Xisuma's blankets, shivers. Hels frowns. 

It shouldn't have come as such a surprise that the King's royal pet would fall ill upon leaving the castle. The poor thing hadn't been permitted to leave the castle or its grounds in over a decade. He was weak in more ways than one. 

Hels ignores the way his heart pangs at the sight of Evil X's forehead, glistening with a sheen of sweat.

"Evil Xisuma."

Evil X scrunches his nose, burrowing further into the blankets with jerking irritation. The impudence is nearly endearing. Under different circumstances he'd enjoy the attitude. Under different circumstances he's sure the other would be the very picture of submission.

Hels sets his jaw and tries again. "Consort."

The effect is instantaneous. Evil X's eyes snap open, glassy and unfocused, but determinedly obedient. He blinks owlishly at Hels for a moment, then his voice comes, raspy and muffled against the blanket. "My King...?"

It's far from ideal, but even Xisuma realized it was miles better than trying to manhandle his counterpart into cooperation. 

Hels pulls his glove from his hand and brings his palm to Evil X's forehead, expecting the burning heat he's greeted with as much as he expects the way Evil X presses up into his touch, his eyes shining with sickness and adoration. 

"You're ill, my Prince," Hels says, feeling another squeeze around his heart at how easily the words slip out of his mouth. 

Evil X moans in protest of his declaration and struggles to push himself up on his elbows. "Nno... my King... 'm fine..."

Hels takes a step closer to the bed, places a hand on Evil X's back to keep him stable as he sits up. It seems to exhaust all of his energy, that simple act, and as soon as he's done it he sags against Hels with a shudder. 

"'m fine..." he insists, although his voice lacks its previous conviction. Hels lets his fingers tangle in Evil X's hair, tensing ever so slightly at the way he shudders again and presses his face into Hels's neck. "My King..."

"You are not," Hels says plainly. Evil X whines in response. It's amusing, until he considers that a few short weeks ago the former consort may not have been capable of even that amount of retort. "Can you walk, my Prince?"

Evil X takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, so evenly that Hels wonders if he's already fallen back asleep laying against him, then speaks, his voice barely more than a whisper and inspiring as little confidence as a mouse's battle cry might. "Yes, my King."

With great difficulty Evil X pushes away from Hels, a quiet groan accompanying his shaking limbs. He sways, and Hels reaches out once more to steady him with a hand between his shoulder blades. Evil X turns grateful eyes to Hels, mouth crooked into a hesitant smile that slips away as soon as he meets Hels's gaze. He cocks his head, expression one of innocent wonder that twists Hels's gut in knots.

"My King..." Evil X says with characteristic reverence. Less characteristic is the palm Hels feels against his cheek. It's warm and sweaty, and Hels nearly curls his lip with disgust until Evil X speaks again. "Your eyes..."

"Consort?" Hels questions, a warning note in his tone that Evil X seems to miss. His head cocks in the other direction, thumb rubbing back and forth beneath Hels's eye.

"They're..." Evil X breathes. "...like mine..."

Hels is momentarily taken aback, afraid his ruse may have already been discovered, but he searches Evil X's eyes and sees only genuine warmth in the crimson that stares back at him. He gives Evil X a cool look, befitting the King he was impersonating, and raises a hand up to grasp Evil X's wrist. "Very observant, Consort."

He pulls Evil X's hand away from his face and grimaces, the sweat left behind chilling his skin. Evil X seems to remember himself, then, and if his cheeks were not already flushed pink with fever Hels is sure they would be now. "I apologize, my King."

"Think nothing of it," Hels says dismissively. He would certainly try to put the misplaced adoration in Evil X's eyes out of his mind. "On your feet now, Consort."

Evil X nods solemnly, the last traces of his good humor slipping away at Hels's words. He realizes only then that he should have chosen them more carefully, but it's too late for that now. Evil X's slides off the bed and determinedly to his feet, an unstable wobble in his stance that turns into a dreamy sway until his weak knees drop him into Hels's arms. He whines, fingers gripping at Hels's shirt as he tries to right himself, desperation in his shaking limbs. 

He makes for a sorry sight, one Hels can't stand to spend another second watching. Rather than wait for the former consort to find some hidden well of strength, Hels leans down until he's able to grab the other man under the knees and without any warning to Evil X he stands, hoisting him up into his arms like he should have done from the beginning. Evil X responds with another whine, his fingers still holding onto Hels as if he'll get a second chance to prove himself, a second chance to obey his command.

"Let go, Consort," Hels says, and Evil X reluctantly releases his hold. 

"I apologize, my King..." he says again, quieter this time. He shivers. Hels cannot tell if it's from the chills, or from fear. He offers no comfort. Better to do what he came here for than waste any further time playing fantasy with Evil X. His King had never been the merciful sort, anyway. He doubts any comfort he could offer now would be accepted.

He carries Evil X from Xisuma's quarters with ease. He was light as a feather in Hels's arms, years as the King's lapdog keeping him lean and elegant. Hels has barely made it out the door before Evil X's anxious breaths have evened out once more. He shivers again, and this time Hels knows it's the fever. 

He takes Evil X to his own private bath, a luxury afforded to him by his status as the rebellion's leader, but a luxury that paled in comparison to the baths in the King's castle. He had no servants to clean the stone floors nor the rugs nor the wooden washbasin. A beaten tapestry was all that stood between the modest room and a cold draft through the cracked window pane, and with it all source of natural light was extinguished. 

Xisuma had been kind enough to prepare the bath for him, this time. The tub was filled with lukewarm water and surrounded by flickering candlelight. He considers the scene before him for a moment. He considers the man in his arms, and the fight for consciousness he'd lost long ago. He sighs.

"Wake up, Consort," he says. 

He hears a sharp inhale from Evil X, a slow exhale that follows. Evil X doesn't move. Then: "'m awake..."

"Good," Hels says. "I need you to listen to me. You have a fever. We need to reduce it. Do you understand?"

Evil X hums, a sound neither affirmative or negative. Hels doesn't wait for Evil X to give him a more clear answer before continuing. "This might feel cool to you. Don't panic."

He steps into the tub before Evil X can respond, the water quickly filling his boot and soaking through his woolen socks, grimacing at the way it clings to his skin. It was uncomfortable, but he imagines leaving Evil X alone in the tub, imagines the way he would slip below the surface of the water, too exhausted to pull himself back out, and knows he has little other option. He brings his other foot into the water, and can't help the low groan as this boot, too, fills with water. 

Hels takes a deep breath and sits down in the tub. Evil X gasps as he's submerged in the lukewarm water, his eyes snapping open as he is soaked through to the bone. His clothes stick to him as Hels's do, wet and heavy, and he whines at the feeling of it. His fingers dig into Hels's shirt as he shifts in his arms in discomfort. "Cold..."

"It is," Hels agrees as he helps Evil X into a more comfortable position. He settles, eventually, when he is laid against Hels's chest, curled up into a compact ball with his face pressed into the heat of Hels's neck. His hair tickles against Hels's arm as it drifts along the lapping waves their shifting created in the water, and Hels finds himself bringing his hand up to stroke Evil X's head. Evil X presses his face further against Hels's neck, a content little purr building in his own throat.

"My King...?" Evil X asks. "Why have you brought me here?"

Hels feels Evil X's hand knead his ribs, slow and clumsy. His fingers travel lower to press against his hip, and Hels knows that nothing he'd said moments earlier stuck in Evil X's mind. The King saw his consort fit for one use only. His consort had spent too many years internalizing it.

With his free hand, Hels grabs hold of Evil X's wrist, pulling his hand away from his body, an odd ache in his chest at the confused whine he receives. "Just relax. Consort."

"Yes, my King..." Evil X says quietly, and almost reluctantly he lets his shoulders sag, his knees unfurl until his feet touch the other end of the tub, his hand go limp in Hels's. 

"Good..." Hels says, releasing his hold on Evil X. He lets his hand float there in the water, hesitating, then carefully he brings it to wrap around Hels's waist. Hels tenses, waits for Evil X to make another move, but he doesn't. He just holds on. "Very good."

Evil X shivers. The fever. The water. The praise. He cannot tell the cause. He tries not to think about it. Evil X's breath slows, and he seems to relax further, the last of the tension in his body loosening as he drifts off again. Hels relaxes too, one hand stroking Evil X's long mane of hair—reflexively, he tells himself. To give his hands something to do. When he rests his chin against the top of Evil X's head, he can't think of any more excuses for the action. 

There is no armor between them now, no masks and no crowns. Hels feels yearning clamp down on his heart, and feels guilt grab on too. He lets his eyes wander to the wet cotton shirt hugging Evil X's back, imagines the stripes of white and pink beneath it, imagines the feeling of the whip in a hand that was not his own, and his fingers tighten in the other's tangles of hair. Evil X sighs. He relaxes his fingers. The grip on his heart does not. 

He is trapped there beneath the weight of his own sins—the sins of the King, the sins that they shared. They hold him so tenderly, in a lover’s embrace, one he both craves and despises. The arm around his waist pulls him further into its embrace, demanding attention, and he squeezes Evil X’s shoulder in response. In the privacy of his quarter’s bath, where only he and the former consort, deep in feverish sleep, could hear the echo of his voice, Hels begs. “Forgive me. Please. Please forgive me.”

Evil X does not respond. The stone on Hels’s heart is not lifted. He lay there in the lukewarm bath, holding the object of his desire, the object of his loathing—not an object at all but a person, and he waits. 

The water is still warm when a tentative knock at the door signals an arrival. Hels recognizes the sound of those soft knuckles rapping on wood. They come the same way no matter the door. “Come in.”

The latch clanks and the hinges squeak open, admitting his lieutenant. “I’m surprised that water isn’t ice cold by now.”

“It’s fine,” Hels says, but he can’t help a small shiver that travels down his spine. Evil X hums against his chest. He doesn’t shiver. Xisuma hums too, and Hels ignores the smile he hears in the sound. His chin still rests on top of Evil X’s head. He has no desire to defend himself. He doesn’t need to.

Xisuma pulls a stool from near the door, so bold in comparison to his shy entrance, dragging it over to the edge of the tub and settling down beside it, making himself at home as if Hels had invited him personally. Hels huffs, resigned to the intrusion he had consented to, amused in spite of himself.

“I have to admit,” Xisuma says, “I didn’t think I’d find you both soaked up to your tits like this.”

Hels nearly balks at Xisuma’s informality, but he schools his features into careful neutrality. Xisuma loved it when he got under Hels’s skin. Hels loved withholding the reactions that Xisuma tried to tease out of him. It was a game they played. He liked to think he was winning. For now.

“Your invalid doppelgänger would have drowned if I hadn’t chosen to  _ soak up to my tits,” _ Hels says cruelly. His words lack any real venom. They both know that Hels did not do things he didn’t want to. 

Xisuma’s voice is soft as he responds, “Thank you. For your help.”

“...He is no use to us ill,” Hels says. As if strategic value was enough reason for him to ruin his good socks. As if his fingers were not still teasing knots from Evil X’s hair.

“Of course,” Xisuma says. “And you aren’t any use to us catching cold in the bath for one invalid doppelgänger.”

Hels is silent. He knows he’s lost this battle. He retreats before his pride is any more wounded. “No. I’m not.”

Xisuma doesn’t speak for a moment. The only sound is the gentle ripples lapping at the edges of the tub. Then, “Did you know him?” Xisuma doesn’t need to clarify, but he does anyway. “Before. When you were... still there. In the castle.”

Hels remembers the feeling of the crown atop his brow. He remembers the heft of a whip in his hand. He remembers the feeling of lips against his own—but not his own. No matter how he longed for it to be so. He strokes Evil X’s hair. He says, “Yes, I knew him. I knew him as intimately as I knew the King himself.”

The candlelight flickers, licking at the dark shadows in the corners of the room, and the ones cast by the tub, the stool. Evil X pulls in a deep breath, drawing the attention of both Hels and Xisuma. He mumbles something incoherent. He presses his face to Hels's chest. 

"He was spirited, and I watched as day after day that cursed crown broke him down further and further, until—" Hels stops himself from finishing the sentence. He hates to acknowledge what Evil X had become, hates to acknowledge that the abject, docile man laying on top of him now was the same one who had captured his attention those years ago, spitting wrathfully against his own bondage. Hels takes a breath. He lets it out slow, steady so as not to disturb Evil X's sleep. "I am a champion, chosen by my people. Now, the leader of your rebellion. And I could do nothing to save one man."

Xisuma sighs, a resigned sound that Hels knows all too well. Sympathy. "You are not solely responsible for the things that happened to him there," he says. "So why are you taking sole blame for failing to rescue him?"

Hels recalls a spy, a plan brought to ruin by the very one it was intended to help, and he understands then that the demons haunting Xisuma were not so different from his own. 

Another shiver wracks his spine, the warm water having fallen cool some time ago. He knows it was to risk Evil X's temperature rising once more to stay, though some desperate part of him longed to remain there. He glances at Xisuma, and Xisuma stands, no words needing to pass Hels's lips for him to understand what was needed. Hels shifts, sitting up just enough that Evil X stirs against him, a low moan humming in his throat as he clings to Hels for stability. Xisuma steps close, his hands coming to aid him in lifting Evil X out of the water and into Xisuma's arms, sopping wet and dripping great puddles all over the stone floor. Hels stands as well, and his lip curls at the feeling of his clothes sticking to him like a second, heavy skin. 

"I'll return him to my quarters, then," Xisuma says, as if there was any confusion about where he might take his counterpart. "Get him a change of clothes. Find a mop to clean up this mess we've made."

Xisuma smiles as his own joke. Hels stares back at him coolly. "I look forward to observing your labors, Xisuma."

"What, no help?" Xisuma says in mock hurt.

"You offered," Hels says, and Xisuma laughs, mirthful and shaking until Evil X whines at him. 

He says his goodbyes and he goes, leaving behind Hels, his heart thumping against the heavy weight of his empty arms.


End file.
